


worldstar money

by hellsun



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boxing, Finger Sucking, M/M, Making Out, jisung and minho are just freaks don’t mind them, jisung is a boxer, kind of illegally but it’s okay cause it makes him feel like a badass, only a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-26 16:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20933231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellsun/pseuds/hellsun
Summary: The delicate touches, the way Minho is handling him, it all feels so sweet and so good. It’s so different after having gotten hit once, twice, over and over again in the ring. It’s addicting, and Jisung’s learned that when something ignites a sweet adrenaline within him, he can’t help but to latch onto it and become addicted to it too.





	worldstar money

**Author's Note:**

> read [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17041067) and it made me wanna write this mess so yea, minsungers enjoy!

Duck, uppercut straight to the jaw, cross a punch, finish it off with a bodyslam, and win the match. 

The motions are second hand to Jisung, they always have been ever since he started underground boxing at 16 just to help his parents pay rent.

The thing was, the city already had its fair share of corrupt people on ground level, but below, where things were discreet and money was exchanged from beneath dirty tables and between tatted hands and jacked up fingers, was where it got even dirtier. 

Jisung knows he shouldn’t have exposed himself to that lifestyle at such a young age, but three years later and now at 19, he considers himself a bit of a prodigy. 

Plus, nothing beats the adrenaline from getting your face completely fucked up from bare bloodied knuckles underneath a dirty light bulb. 

“And the winner is... Han!” The ref, a 5 '9 smoker who wasn’t at all legally equipped to supervise a match, held up Jisung’s hand, claps from the crowd bouncing from dirty wall to dirty wall. Jisung shared a glance towards his opponent, and _wow, those cuts are gonna leave some goddamn scars._

Who was Jisung to judge though, he probably doesn’t look any better, he _knows_ he doesn’t look any better. He felt a bruise forming just above his cheekbone, and some blood dripping from his nose, but his body after all these years of fighting is used to the pain, embraces it even. The adrenaline, the pain, even if it hurts so fucking bad, he’s addicted to it in every way.

He remembers when he first started out, when he was handed a flyer walking home from school especially later than usual one day by a tall man with a couple gold rings on his fingers. _Bare Knuckle Boxing Match Tonight. 11 PM. $20 Entry. 302 Haven Street._

Jisung ended up going. Told his mom he was staying at a friend’s house to study and would just spend the night. Watching that match for the first time though, hearing that booming crowd cheering and throwing a couple hundreds into the ring like it was nothing, everything about it had his heart racing. He instantly became addicted to it, and craved that initial adrenaline every day ever since.

He also met Minho that night.

It was by sheer coincidence, he never really intended on going back to watch another match in that raunchy underground ring, but when Minho first asked him _Hey, what the fuck? Aren’t you too young to be here?_ And after finding out that the boy was only 17 at the time and had no right being at an illegal boxing match just like Jisung, his interest in the boy instantly peaked. 

He had gone to every match ever since then, always excusing it as _doing homework_ or _spending the night at a friends,_ but a couple months in was when he was _really_ at the center of it all. 

Jisung had learned two fundamental things that first night: one, money truly makes the world go round and two, Minho was an amazing kisser.

+

Minho is asleep when Jisung is heard trying to quietly sneak in through his window at around 2 am, tumbling in and knocking something over despite trying to remain as quiet as possible.

It’s always been like this from the moment they met, Jisung sneaks into Minho’s house, Minho scolds him on always walking home at one in the morning from a match, and Minho puts a bandaid or two on any cuts Jisung might have (which is inevitably always). It always ends the same though, limbs tangled together and soft kisses with some gentle caresses made. 

“Sungie?” Minho’s voice is hoarse and deep, having just woken up from all of Jisung’s rustling. Jisung finds it kind of hot, but he’d never admit that out loud.

“Oh, hey Minho. Did I wake you?” 

“Take a guess Jisung.”

“Sorry Min…” Jisung lets out a bit of a nervous laugh, “I won the match if that’ll make you feel any better?” 

“I knew you would. I’m proud of you baby. Now come here so I can see how beat your face and knuckles are.” 

Minho sits up and flips a switch near his bed that allows for the christmas lights he casually has year round to turn on.

It drowns the room in a mix of red and blue, the colors swimming together and forming a vibrant purple. Minho notices the way the lights reflect off Jisung’s eyes, sparkling pretty like two of his own personal stars.

Jisung’s already climbing into Minho’s bed, resting his head against the comfort of Minho’s thighs.

Minho looks down at Jisung, closely analyzing his face for all the cuts and bruises, gently grabbing his hand and seeing how red and raw they look.

“Han Jisung! When will your dumbass start taking _legal_ boxing classes like a normal person?!” He gently kisses Jisung’s knuckles.

“Once they start paying _me_ hundreds to beat someone up _that’s_ when.” 

Minho runs his fingers through his boy’s soft hair and looks him in the eyes. The contrast between the giant bruise forming on his cheek and the deep cut square on his eyebrow bone compared to those big sparkly eyes staring right back at him makes his heart clench just a bit more.

“I know I can’t stop you from doing what you love ‘cause you’re also making money, but I hate seeing you get hurt every week, Jisung,” 

His words hold a heavy weight to them, and Jisung feels them work straight through his heart. He knows himself, he knows he doesn’t wish to worry Minho, and the last thing Jisung wants is to drop dead on the grimy floor underneath a flickering light bulb because someone in the ring decided to hit the wrong part of his skull one night.

“Minho, I have to do this. I know you hate to see me get hurt but I need the money. Also I kind of think these cuts make me look badass.”

They both laugh at that, and the grim mood in the air quickly dissipates.

“Jisung, what would I do without your dumbass?”

He giggles, and Minho moves his hand from Jisung’s hair, caressing his face, careful not to touch the cuts and bruises.

He thumbs Jisung’s lower lip, the grin on Jisung’s face long gone, his heart beating erratically. 

Jisung parts his lips just a bit more, and Minho’s thumb is quickly enveloped by the warmth of his mouth, pressing down on Jisung’s tongue and moving the digit in and out, thumb completely engulfed past the younger’s bruised lips.

Jisung’s eyes are glimmering as he looks straight at Minho, and the adrenaline he’s feeling, the way his heart feels like it’s beating out of his chest, it’s almost akin to the way he feels in the ring. Except there’s no fighting here, no flinching or deep cuts made on the apple of his cheek. No facade to intimidate the opponent. What he feels with Minho, it’s pure vulnerability, all the tough bits and pieces of himself gently being pulled away with the flick of Minho’s thumb deeper inside the warmth of his mouth.

Jisung feels like he might just cry, a high pitched whine leaving his lips as Minho removes his thumb from his mouth, tracing it along his lower lip, down to his chin and resting his hand around the base of Jisung’s neck. 

He starts breathing faster, harder at that, as Minho leans in, connecting their lips. Like with everything else in Jisung’s life, he gets eager quick and let’s the adrenaline consume him, embraces it with every fiber in his being as he licks straight into Minho’s mouth and drinks up the moans the elder is giving him.

Minho removes Jisung from across his lap, gently situating himself right on top of the younger, grabbing both his wrists and pinning him down with a feather light touch. 

The delicate touches, the way Minho is handling him, it all feels so sweet and so good. It’s so different after having gotten hit once, twice, over and over again in the ring. It’s addicting, and Jisung’s learned that when something ignites a sweet adrenaline within him, he can’t help but to latch onto it and become addicted to it too.

When Jisung feels soft lips attaching to his neck, sucking and leaving a mark blooming on his skin, breathing out a _right there, Minho,_ he all but melts. When he feels those same lips going lower, lower, and _lower, hyung,_ he unabashedly moans; arches right into Minho because every touch of his fingertips against his skin, every brush of Minho’s lips trailing along Jisung’s body is a punch straight to his heart, and it's all but bruising and resonates within him in the sweetest way possible.

+

**Author's Note:**

> second debut on ao3 lord... sorry i can’t seem to write more than 1k! next fic i’m truly gonna try pushing myself to meet something more lengthy! until then, thank you all for reading ;)


End file.
